Steve Galindo

Calif. copy replaces old Mill Avenue

I have a question for you. Take the self-centered, self-righteous overall mentality of the city of Scottsdale. Mix it with the crass commercialism of Las Vegas, the egotistical nature of Melrose Place, the back-stabbing ideals of Hollywood, a high credit limit, silicone, MTV, a violent urge for as much money as possible and a total disrespect for the small businessman.

What do you have left?

The answer: Millennium Avenue Inc., my new name for what was once Mill Avenue. For those of you too young to remember, Mill was once a small, quaint, local business-oriented college avenue, as opposed to the pretentious, ultra-capitalist, revolting California carbon copy it is now.

I hate to say it, but Mill Avenue has died and a sick golden calf has been erected in its place. It has mutated into an evil avenue run on greed, and money and every last inch of small, local ideals that happen to remain are being systematically crushed under the fist of the almighty dollar. What was once a friendly college neighborhood has mutated into something out of an Ed Wood movie or a Stephen King novella.

Don't believe me? Then take it up with the owners of Changing Hands Bookstore and The Spaghetti Company. If you can find them, that is. Millennium Avenue Inc. has made them a little bit hard to find.

It seems like one morning there was a quaint little college street with coffee and books, video games and ice cream, all mixed together with an interesting assortment of old people and poor teen-age runaways. Back then, Rocky Horror Picture Show fans ruled the sidewalks; a good game of pinball could always be found at the arcade; and there was only one place to get coffee.

Then, one morning, there was nothing but high class bars and sushi restaurants where they check your fashion sense and credit limit at the door before they let you in. The mood started changing. The Rocky fans were forced to leave, the pinball gave up the ghost and the Starbucks Empire took root. Abercrombie and Fitch began peddling their ultra-hip, trendy wares from their brand-new store .MeanwhileP.F. Chang's, Saki, Ra and the Crocodile Cafe gave Tempeans the chance to pretend they live in Los Angeles.

In retrospect, I'm not exactly sure how Millennium Avenue Inc. came into power. I can, however, estimate its birth is 'round about the same time the powers that be who ran the old Mill Avenue decided to sell their souls to a tortilla chip company.

I was present for the last FREE New Year's Eve party on Mill Avenue. There were a few local bands, many booths featuring food and local crafts and a chance to celebrate the new year with your fellow Phoenicians. It was a pleasant mix of families, couples, thick-necked drunken college guys, the elderly and women having their best friends hold their hair back while they pray to the sidewalk. It was pure Mill Avenue, pure Arizona and all free. And, most importantly, a giant ball dropped to signal the new year.

Then, the city of Tempe received an offer from Satan, who was disguised as a representative of a semi-popular tortilla chip company.

Now, the end of every New Year's Eve celebration in Tempe is signaled by a giant tortilla chip falling into a giant salsa dip. What's even more revolting is that you now have to pay a large amount of cash to simply walk down Mill Avenue on any major holiday. Well, at least, that's how it is now. Who's to say that they won't have a $20 cover charge to walk down Mill next Groundhog Day?

The only logical reason I've come up with for Mill Avenue turning so cold and commercial is that Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movies actually runs Millennium Avenue Inc. as some sort of evil plan to rule the world. Or does Skeletor, He-Man's arch-nemesis, run it instead? I'm not sure.

One thing is for sure, though. The Mill Avenue that's there right now -- that's not the one I know.

Steve Galindo is an interdisciplinary studies senior and can be reached at Esteban.Galindo@asu.edu.

Mill has mutated into an evil avenue run on greed and money and every last inch of small, local ideals that happen to remain are being systematically crushed under the fist of the almighty dollar.